Dream A Little Dream Of Me
by Thayne M
Summary: Oneshot. John and Teyla spend a night away from each other for the first time almost a year, and sleep doesn't come easy for either of them. Very short little piece of dribble. Sheyla. R&R, please!


**Title:** _Dream A Little Dream Of Me_  
**Summary:** _John and Teyla spend a night away from each other for the first time almost a year, and sleep doesn't come easy for either of them._  
**Inspiration:**_ This one was inspired by "Dream A Little Dream Of Me," by Ella Fitzgerald. This is another one of those rare songs that I actually _like_ hearing most remakes of, but no one will ever top Ella!_  
**Lyrics:** _Stars shining bright above you/Night breezes seem to whisper, "I love you"/Birds singing in the sycamore tree/"Dream a little dream of me"/Say "nighty-night" and kiss me/Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me/While I'm alone and blue as can be/Dream a little dream of me  
Stars fading, but I linger on, dear/Still craving your kiss/I'm longing to linger 'til dawn, dear/Just saying this/Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you/Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you/But in your dreams, whatever they be/Dream a little dream of me  
Stars fading, but I linger on, dear/Still craving your kiss/I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear/Just saying this/Sweet dreams 'til sunbeams find you/Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you/But in your, dreams whatever they be/Dream a little dream of me_

--

"I'm so _sorry_," John snipped sarcastically, "I didn't realize how big of a burden it would be to have my _girlfriend_ visit my _home planet_ with me. I mean, its not as if I go visit _your _people all the time--celebrate their holidays, take part in their traditions, protect them like they were my own. You're right; you shouldn't go with me. We wouldn't want you to feel out of _place_, or anything," he crossed his arms over his chest.

Teyla through up her hands, aggrivated and tired, but desperate to have him hear her, "John, we have gone over this already; I am not ready to take Tagan through the gate just yet, and I do not wish to leave him alone for that long."

"Its one day!"

"Please, John," she covered her eyes with one hand, sighing, "I do not want to fight with you right now."

He scoffed harshly, "You'd rather wait until I get back? Because--gotta tell ya'--I think the point'll be pretty much moot by then."

"Moot--?"

John cut her off, "You know what?" He stood and grabbed his duffel back from the chair next to him, "Just forget it. I'm leaving," he started for the door, tossing over his shoulder, "Kiss Tagan for me and have a nice night," the last two words dripping with spite.

Once he was gone, Teyla dropped down onto the bed they'd shared every night for a little over ten months. It was small (they'd been unable to order a larger one, seeing as there relationship was frowned upon in the first place), but they'd come to enjoy its restriction. It ensured that, no matter how they felt toward one another before they went to sleep, they always ended up feeling one way: warm. Warm and grateful and loving. Teyla would settle her temple against the crook of John's shoulder, hook one ankle around his, and drape her arm over his chest. He, in return, would rest his cheek against the top of her head and cover her arm with his own, running his fingers up and down, the tickling sensation (along with his light snoring, to which she'd grown accustom) lulling her to sleep. They would take turns half-sleepwalking to Tagan's crib in the middle of the night, when he woke with a fever or a bad dream, and rock him back to sleep. Then they would resume their position, or--as it sometimes was--part just enough for the baby's tiny body to fit comfortably between them.

Tonight, she would not have that. Tonight, she would be alone.

--

_That went well_, John berated himself as he sat at the foot of his hotel bed. He'd booked the room ahead of time, sure that Teyla would join him, and he'd arranged to have a big, soft bed and a bottle of champagne waiting for them after a routine debriefing at the SGC. Now, the bed just looked daunting and the champagne was mocking him, and he was very, _very_ alone.

And guilty. He hadn't told her--before he'd stormed out--that he loved her.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. He collapsed onto the bed and covered his face with his hands.

He banged his head back against the pillows several times to flatten them into position, but lying in bed wasn't the same without a familiar, warm body next to his. He wasn't comfortable without her arm across his chest, her head on his shoulder, her foot sliding up and down her leg in such an affectionate way.

Sleep did not come easy. He drifted off only twice, and was woken both times just as soon as he'd started dreaming. In his dreams, she'd been hovering above him, lids heavy and lips bruised and swollen, as if they'd been kissing forever. The vision had jerked John from his slumber and he finally gave up alltogether, propping himself up against the headboard to face the television, but finding that nothing could keep his mind from wandering to the woman he'd left back home.

--

"Incoming wormhole." Teyla's focus flooded back all at once at the words, and her eyes fastened on to the shimmering blue orb that had formed between the metal braces of the stargate. She hadn't been able to concentrate at all that morning; not with the night's sleep she'd had. Or, as it were, _lackthereof_. She'd been unable to get comfortable until dawn, and had only drifted off for a few minutes before a quick flash of John's image and a voice on her radio brought her back to consciousness. She'd been miserable since then.

"Welcome back, Colonel Sheppard," Woolsey greeted when the man appeared from within the wormhole. Teyla brushed past the expedition leader so fast that it almost knocked him over, and was down the stairs before John had even walked three feet. Then she stopped, as did he. They just stood in their respective spaces for a long moment, staring each other down, each trying to assess the situation. They both knew that neither of them had slept well. They both knew where they'd been wrong the day before. They both knew how sorry the other was. Yet it wasn't until Woolsey cleared his throat curiously from somewhere above them that they moved, both jumping first at the sudden noise, and then walking wordlessly to one another.

Teyla slipped her hand in John's, and he brought it up to his mouth to press a light kiss there. She smiled up at him and he returned it, this time leaning down to kiss her temple, not caring that the eyes of everyone in the room were on them. He simply squeezed Teyla's hand and nodded toward the door that led to the transporter, which would take them back to their room. And no apologies would be needed. No explanations, no excuses, no retrospect. They would just go back to their room and lay together, nestled close, fitting against one another like two final pieces to some cosmic conundrum, and they would sleep.

--

**Special A/N:**

**Okay, so, as you can see...I have idea-block. Not so much writer's block; I just can't seem to come up with any initial ideas for stories! But, not wanting to let myself get rusty, I've been doing that thing where ya pick random songs and write a story around the lyrics. Fun, right? WRONG! Crappy. Crappy, **_**crappy**_** stories by Thayne that make her feel useless and disappointing.  
So, if you have any requests, I will gladly take them! PLEASE!  
...But, um...incidentally...R&R, please!**


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